


junkie

by kazahaya0



Category: Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Casual Sex, Implied Relationships, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 19:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazahaya0/pseuds/kazahaya0
Summary: Now in their mid twenties, Fudou and Shirou smoke a joint and talk about past relationships and life in general.





	junkie

**Author's Note:**

> While this is set during original GO timeline right after Fubuki is unemployed after Hakuren's Fifth Sector take over, I kept the mention of Atsuya being alive as a nod to the Ares/Orion timeline. Also for the purposes of this fic, Shirou is living in Inazuma Town at the moment, not Hokkaido (where Hakuren is). Everything else is exactly the same.  
Implied side/past relationships: shirou/gouenji, someoka/gouenji, shirou/someoka, fudou/genda, fudou/sakuma.

There is a knock and then another, and then the doorbell rings.

“Coming...”

Shirou Fubuki opens the door to a very deadpan Akio Fudou, holding two plastic bags from the combini around the corner.

“So you’re alive.”

Shirou smiles back at him knowingly, takes the bags from his hands.

His hair has gotten longer and wilder since the last time Fudou saw him, and he still wears that stupid rock band t-shirt they saw together once, five years ago at a basement bar in Sapporo. It always looks like a recycling awareness logo to Fudou.

“Hey Fudou-kun.”

Fudou sits as he unties his winter boots, taking off his grey coat. “So. How long since you’ve been unemployed.”

Shirou’s voice is distant, in the kitchen.

“A few weeks. Not even a month in I think. Everything is temporary.”

“I see. You could always answer my messages anyways. They won’t bite you.”

Fudou rejoins Shirou in the small kitchenette of his apartment. The lights are off but the window lets in some dim light from outside.

“It didn’t rain on your way here did it?”

“Nope.”

Shirou is unpacking the stuff he brought him. Two melon pans, two karepans, one big bento, some candy, beer cans. Quite a few beer cans. Fudou pops one open and so does Shirou.

They share a look and take one sip. Fudou can see the entrance of Shirou’s room/living room from there, as well as he sees all the clothes, linen and books scattered around and two fat trash bags on the corner.

“The house is a mess.”

“Have pity. I was laid off, for all I know my career is over because Fifth Sector erased it.”

“Not an excuse to be so sloppy. The Hakurens lost anyway. I don’t think Fifth Sector gives a shit about you anymore. You’re old news.”

Shirou takes another sip.

“I want a fresh start. So, whatever...”

“Well, on the case they really have you black-listed.”— Fudou begins, opening one of the karepans’ wraper. “You can always, I don’t know, blow Ishido Shuuji, heh? It’s what I would have done.”

Shirou cackles at the image of it. Fudou wonders if he is considering it for real.

“Can you imagine that?”

“I can, Gouenji has been odd ever since—“

“Let’s not get into that. Feels bad talking about him now. Did you bring it?”

Fudou nods. They sit on Shirou’s mat, in his puny tiny room. His old laptop is on, tucked away in a corner next to his barely rolled up futon. It’s playing a video or a song Shirou must have been watching before he arrived. There is an old fraying sticker on it, with a logo from their time in the youth soccer league a few years back.

Fudou takes a tiny packet out of his jacket pocket, takes his time, rolls both of them a joint, licks the paper with his tongue as Shirou watches. The tiny orange light the only bright thing in the room.

“Doing this in your mess of a room... I feel like a teenager.”

He hands Shirou his own, gets his lighter and both of them lit them together. It’s silent for a while.

“Look. I can’t believe I am more responsible than you. Do you even use the iron I got you??”

“No... no use ironing anything around here.” Shirou whines, as he gets a small plate to be used as an ashtray.

“Listen I don’t do this for nobody okay? But I will help you take the trash out later when I leave.”

“Ah thanks but... it’s not really the day for those... I have to wait until Wednesday now.”

“Goddammit Fubuki. You keep making excuses.”

The other guy laughs and shrugs, puffs of smoke surrounding him.

Neither Fudou nor Shirou were like this. The type of kid to have his life put together nor the type of kid to become so lazy, respectively. Some switch had gone off. The unemployment by the Fifth Sector was just a cherry on top of it all.

The Fifth Sector made sure it touched all of their lives personally. It was as if Gouenji was doing it on purpose, pulling the strings to each and every one of their old team mates where it hurt. Fudou had been abrasive. He has been used to fight for himself all his life, Shirou too. Taking care of his brother Atsuya with no parents no less. But he had always had a support system in others, friends, team mates. Shirou had grown to be loved easily. Mothers loved him as much as their daughters did, and Fudou was never jealous but he was observant. He seemed so well put together.

With Atsuya out and about making his own luck, and Hakuren letting Shirou go, it seems he was having a little trouble getting back on his feet. As a good boy he always looked the part, but now Shirou Fubuki was left without purpose. For now. Fudou breathes in and the orange light at the tip of his joint shines bright again.

“If you had a girl she would not tolerate you living like this.”

“You’re speaking as if I were a NEET. And I don’t have a girl, anymore.”

“Heh? Dumped again? You always got the girls when we were teens, what happened to that.”

“She wanted something stable I think. I don’t even want to think about it.”

The joint has burnt off in his fingers and Shirou puts it away in the ashtray. Fudou stares. There is no hurt in his voice, for all Fudou knows, Shirou let girls pass by him like breezes.

He was always like that.

“I was dating a guy though.”

“Oh? That’s new.”

Shirou shakes his head, amused.

“Not at all!” he opens another beer can “Someoka-kun comes by sometimes. When he is back from Italy.”

Fudou cocks his head to the side.

“That’s new.”

“Not at all. We were on and off during our teenage years. Come on, me, Gouenji-kun and Someoka-kun? Didn’t any of you guys notice anything? You’re not as attentive are you Fudou-kun…”

He teases and takes another sip. It’s like this with them, Fudou brings the joints, Shirou brings the gossip. Fudou isn’t a prude himself, but he is somewhat surprised at not even noticing half of Shirou’s conquests, as close as they had gotten in the last few years.

“Guys too huh…”

His head is lighter now and his breathing is more relaxed. He closes his eyes.

“You never thought about it Fudou-kun?”

“I have. And I did it too. I think we’re in the same position.”

It’s not a lie. Fudou has laid with guys before. He soon understood why he would lose interest in girls quickly. He wonders how many of them are in this situation now, oaths so tight due to years, a decade of playing together. Flesh and bone and sweat and tears linking all of them together. You can’t replace those bonds so easily.

Suddenly that joke about Ishido Shuuji didn’t seem like much of a joke at all. Shirou’s room was quickly foggy, Fudou feels it kicking in and feels an innate need to laugh out loud. He almost does it for real, when Shirou leaped one leg over his waist and his breath caresses Fudou’s face.

Shirou laughs, and smiles, that lazy, easy smile of his and Fudou reckons he must be laughing at last too because he is holding on to Shirou’s white t-shirt over his waist. The colors clouding his vision aren’t real, but Shirou’s weight and tongue are.

“I keep latching on to people I know like this, don’t I?”

Fudou is about to ask him what that means but he forgets how.

It’s nothing like the first time he kissed another boy, all nerves and “I dare you to” behind the lockers after practice, and his bony knees trembling in secret and hands pressing hard against Genda’s shoulders. Or the burning, hostile feeling when, after classes, he and Sakuma would fight under the pretense of just touching each other until they got caught by an older classmate. Or the other hundred times with other different faces, after those.

This is relaxed, an intermission between a million hook ups and relationships he has passed by and may revisit, or not.

Shirou kisses him and grabs at his belt, undoing it and Fudou undoes himself quite as easily. It’s over in a moment but it feels like he is at the height of the world, and Fudou can’t tell if it’s because of the weed, the beers or kissing a non-stranger. Or all three. His hands go from Shirou’s waist to his lower belly, freeing his skin from his baggy jeans and baggy boxers.

Everything is temporary.

.

“Smoking always makes me so hungry…”

Shirou checks the fridge for the rest of the beers and they sit in the kitchen. They’re only starting to eat the convenience store food for dinner when Fudou mumbles something as he checks his wrist watch.

“After this I really gotta go.”

“I don’t know anybody who still has one of those.” Shirou points out, his hair sticking in every direction and his mouth full of food. “Besides Someoka-kun. And he’s got one of those expensive ones, from like Switzerland or something…”

“Yeah, lucky bastard. He is lucky they’re keeping him for so long. I was out of Spain after two years. But they may call me back, who knows… who else is out? Someoka… - Italy does him good - Kidou… - why the hell is Kidou coaching Raimon now instead of playing for Manchester I will never know – oh, there was Gouenji for a while, Dortmund was it? We all know how that turned out. Surprised Endou never left Japan either but he got hitched so…”

Fudou nods, absentmindedly. He is trying to come up with the names of teams and the colors of the jerseys they all wore now, or had worn, but it is all a rainbow where there had only been samurai blue.

“It’s so odd when your friends start getting married, isn’t it?” Shirou sighs, and then pouts. “I never got invited to play overseas.”

“There is still time.”

“No way, I was such a good player when I was younger! I was overlooked.”

“Hitting on all the managers from official teams might have been what set them off.”

Shirou yawns and stretches, his belly showing under the t-shirt. Fudou scratches his chin, trying to come up with alternatives.

“You can always teach kids again.”

“That would be cool. I sent in some applications. I’ve been waiting for a response.”

“I’m sure you’ll get something. Let me know. I’ll come by, we will celebrate the end of your NEET-ness.”

Shirou makes that look again as he chuckles, a gruff sound as he chows down the rest of the food. His eyes never lose that sleepy hint and there are bags under his eyes. Only now is Fudou noticing them.

How tired they’re all becoming.

“Just promise me you’ll take the trash out on time, Fubuki.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

.

Fudou gets home and lits a cigarette before he even turns on the lights. He went by the convenience store again on his way out Shirou’s house for a few groceries. Took longer than he expected, but with Shirou it’s always like this. You plan to stay one hour and end up staying four. He is now late with the training menus and other paperwork for the kid’s team he is supposed to start coaching next week.

Fudou gets the rice cooker working and starts working on his tablet. Flashes of his late afternoon pass by his mind but he doesn’t pay much attention to them. Unlike Shirou Fubuki, he is happy being lonely and doesn’t pay attention to the mindless whirlwind that has become their lives. He has seen what it did to Gouenji, to Kazemaru even. He doesn’t fall for that. He hasn’t in a long time. Everything is temporary.

It’s only a few days later after doing laundry, Fudou finds a karepan wrapper he forgot to throw away inside of one of his pants’ pockets.

And he thinks, ‘maybe I should call him again.’


End file.
